What then avails, that with exhaustless store Obsequious Luxury loads thy glittering shrine? What then avails, that prostrate slaves adore, And Fame proclaims thee matchless and divine? 72 What though bland Flattery all her arts apply? Will these avail to calm the infuriate brain? Or will the roaring surge, when heaved on high, Headlong hang, hush'd, to hear the piping swain? 73 In health how fair, how ghastly in decay Man's lofty form! how heavenly fair the mind Sublimed by Virtue's sweet enlivening sway! But ah! to guilt's outrageous rule resign'd. 74 How hideous and forlorn! when ruthless Care With cankering tooth corrodes the seeds of life, And deaf with passion's storms when pines Despair, And howling furies rouse the eternal strife. 75 Oh, by thy hopes of joy that restless glow, Pledges of Heaven! be taught by Wisdom's lore; With anxious haste each doubtful path forego, And life's wild ways with cautious fear explore. 76 Straight be thy course: nor tempt the maze that leads Where fell Remorse his shapeless strength conceals, And oft Ambition's dizzy cliff he treads, And slumbers oft in Pleasure's flowery vales. 77 Nor linger unresolved: Heaven prompts the choice, Save when Presumption shuts the ear of Pride: With grateful awe attend to Nature's voice, The voice of Nature Heaven ordain'd thy guide. 78 Warn'd by her voice the arduous path pursue, That leads to Virtue's fane a hardy band: What though no gaudy scenes decoy their view, Nor clouds of fragrance roll along the land? 79 What though rude mountains heave the flinty way? Yet there the soul drinks light and life divine, And pure aerial gales of gladness play, Brace every nerve, and every sense refine. 80 Go, prince, be virtuous and be blest. The throne Rears not its state to swell the couch of Lust: Nor dignify Corruption's daring son, To o'erwhelm his humbler brethren of the dust. 81 But yield an ampler scene to Bounty's eye, An ampler range to Mercy's ear expand: And, 'midst admiring nations, set on high Virtue's fair model, framed by Wisdom's hand. 82 Go then: the moan of Woe demands thine aid: Pride's licensed outrage claims thy slumbering ire: Pale Genius roams the bleak neglected shade, And battening Avarice mocks his tuneless lyre. 83 Even Nature pines, by vilest chains oppress'd: The astonish'd kingdoms crouch to Fashion's nod. O ye pure inmates of the gentle breast, Truth, Freedom, Love, O where is your abode? 84 O yet once more shall Peace from heaven return, And young Simplicity with mortals dwell! Nor Innocence the august pavilion scorn, Nor meek Contentment fly the humble cell! 85